


if you're ready (like i'm ready)

by sameboots



Series: give it a chance [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, Lack of Communication, Mutual Pining, Reconciliation, Sansa Stark is the best best friend, Tyrion Lannister Ships It, Workplace Relationship, jaime lannister: human disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 13:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19946986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sameboots/pseuds/sameboots
Summary: The conclusion to Brienne the PA and Jaime the VIP. In which our two heroes get some tough love from friends and family re: their insecurities. Jaime gets brave and Brienne positively flummoxed.--“I’ve never known you to be a coward.”Jaime drops his hands to glare at Tyrion, his words like a punch to the gut. “I’ve never wanted anyone this way before. It’s like she’s somehow--” he gestures to his chest and then shrugs helplessly. “She’s just in there and I don’t know how to risk it.”“So you’re going to let someone else eventually sweep her off her feet while you sit here twiddling your thumbs, too scared to make yourself happy, when you can passively allow someone else to devastate you?” Tyrion’s expression could not more plainly convey disappointment. “If you want her, then go gether, or at least fall on your face trying."So he did.





	if you're ready (like i'm ready)

**Author's Note:**

> The promised conclusion to Brienne the PA. THE HAPPY ENDING that I have sworn and sworn to. 
> 
> Thanks go to bethanyactually, as almost always, for a super quick beta. Thanks, also, to my brain for not being able to just shut up and give me a break from all the writing. 
> 
> I hope this is a satisfying conclusion for everyone. 
> 
> On with the show!

If Brienne had worried that she would never speak to Jaime again, those fears are allayed almost immediately. It takes Jaime until Wednesday of the first week before her phone vibrates with a text:

_ Jaime: Podrick can’t find the address labels _

**_ Brienne: Bottom right shelf of the supply cabinet _ **

_ Jaime: Thanks _

Two days after that, he texts her again.

_ Jaime: Which tie goes with the purple striped shirt? Podrick has no taste and I have a dinner tonight _

**_ Brienne: Nothing don’t wear the purple shirt at night _ **

_ Jaime: Why not? _

**_ Brienne _ ** ** :  ** **_ Because it’s not an evening shirt and you know it. Just wear a white shirt and a solid color tie _ **

_ Jaime: Ok _

Brienne is with Sansa for dinner during that particular exchange. 

“Who’s that?” Sansa asks as Brienne locks her phone, but leaves it face-up on the table. 

Brienne feels her cheeks turn pink. “Jaime.”

“I thought you quit.” Sansa raises an eyebrow. 

“I did,” Brienne mumbles. “I’m just helping until the new assistant gets the hang of things.”

“And what was so important that he’s texting you at seven-thirty on a Friday?” There’s an unsettling smile on Sansa’s face. “I know you worked long hours, but that seems excessive.” 

“He had a question about a shirt.” If possible, Sansa’s expression becomes even more knowing. 

“I used to help with that stuff,” Brienne explains sheepishly. “He’s hopeless when it comes to dressing himself.” 

“Mmm,” Sansa hums. 

“What?” Brienne asks a little more sharply than she intended. 

“How many official functions did he go to in the past two years where you  _ weren’t _ his date?”

“They weren’t dates,” Brienne protests automatically. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“Two,” she relents. “I was visiting my dad for Christmas.”

“And how long have you been in love with him?” Sansa asks. 

Brienne blanches. 

“Oh, don’t give me that look. I’ve known you for a decade now, and I’m not completely blind. Personal assistants do not attend every single state function, gala, and dinner with their boss, and they definitely don’t keep an entire wardrobe of formal dresses for that sole purpose. So. How long?”

“Two years?” Brienne flinches away from how pitiful that is. 

“Oh, Brie.” Sansa sighs and pushes her cocktail toward Brienne. “You need this more than I do.” Brienne takes a long drink before Sansa continues, “Why didn’t you just tell him?”

“You’ve seen him, right?” Brienne asks incredulously. “I mean, I know you have. He’s incredibly rich, stupidly handsome, charming, and  _ kind _ . He could literally have almost any woman he wanted, married ones included.”

“But he  _ doesn’t _ ,” Sansa points out. “If he could have any woman, then why hasn’t he asked a single one of them to be his date to one of these parties?” 

Briene doesn’t have an answer for that. Not really. She had wondered at it early on, but Jaime doesn’t seem to socialize much outside the professional sphere. He worked ridiculous hours, and-- 

“That’s what I thought,” Sansa interrupts her thoughts. “You should tell him. Well, maybe not that you’re  _ in love _ with him, that might be a lot. But you should at least tell him you want make sweet, sweet love to him.”

“Sansa!” Brienne flushes brightly. “I can’t. I just can’t. It’s better this way.”

Sansa looks like she’s about to protest but something about Brienne’s expression must stop her. She sighs instead and signals the waiter to bring Brienne a double. 

\--

If Jaime’s fair, Podrick is actually a great assistant. He’s enthusiastic, meticulous, and well-trained by Brienne. 

But he’s  _ not _ Brienne, and therein lies the problem. Jaime is well aware of how pathetic he is, texting Brienne made-up questions just to have an excuse to communicate with her. He knows he’s pestering her, so he metes it out. He spaces out the text messages so she doesn’t get suspicious or contact Podrick herself. 

He misses her presence, tall and frequently aggrieved, even curt. In his first forty years, Jaime became accustomed to people being deferential purely because of his surname and fear of his father. Not Brienne, though. From her first day she treated him with a no-nonsense attitude that left him reeling, and now he feels like something is missing from his days. 

“You’re pathetic,” Tyrion interrupts his thoughts, strolling into Jaime’s office. 

“Hello to you, too.” Jaime leans back in his chair as Tyrion takes a seat across from him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“No fewer than four people have now asked me why you seem so despondent,” Tyrion informs him. “Not to mention the ones who dared to ask where your blonde Amazonian has disappeared to.”

“I haven’t been that bad.”

“The public at large seems to disagree.” Tyrion levels a look at him that he inherited from their father, the one that says  _ you best confess your sins or else _ . “I thought you were going to tell her how you feel.”

Jaime cringes. “There wasn’t an opportunity.” 

“In the two weeks following her resignation, during which I know good and well you two worked overtime, there wasn’t a single opportunity?” Tyrion asks sardonically. 

“Ah, yes, why didn’t I think of that,” Jaime returns with a tone rivaling Tyrion’s own. “‘Hey, Brienne, before you leave, I’m in love with you. See you tomorrow.’” 

“It’s becoming very clear to me why you’re perpetually single.” Tyrion says dryly. “You are the most emotionally constipated man since our father.”

Jaime bristles. “I’m nothing like Father.”

Tyrion’s expression softens with sympathy. “You’re not cruel like he is; Cersei inherited all of that. But your complete unwillingness to allow yourself even a shred of vulnerability? That’s pure Tywin.”

Jaime scrubs at his face with his palms. “If I don’t tell her, she can’t reject me.” He knows it’s pathetic even as he says it, but the idea of her letting him down, even as kindly as Brienne would, makes him feel sick. 

“I’ve never known you to be a coward.”

Jaime drops his hands to glare at Tyrion, his words like a punch to the gut. “I’ve never wanted anyone this way before. It’s like she’s somehow--” he gestures to his chest and then shrugs helplessly. “She’s just in there and I don’t know how to risk it.”

“So you’re going to let someone else eventually sweep her off her feet while you sit here twiddling your thumbs, too scared to make yourself happy, when you can passively allow someone else to devastate you?” Tyrion’s expression could not more plainly convey disappointment. “If you want her, then go get her, or at least fall on your face trying."

So he did. 

\--

Brienne opens the door to find a frazzled Jaime on the other side of it. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, panic coursing through her. There can’t be a good reason for Jaime to show up at her apartment at eleven-thirty p.m. on a Friday. 

“Can I come in?” he asks, instead of answering her question. 

“Of course.” She steps aside and lets him enter.

He’s tense, almost nervous, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans and his head twisting this way and that, taking in her small but neat apartment. 

“You should get some art for the walls,” he says absently. 

"Did you come here at nearly midnight to criticize my decorating abilities?”   


Jaime turns to face her, his eyes soft and searching. “No.” He looks away for a moment, his gaze distant, as if he’s pulling his thoughts together. Brienne’s never been more confused in her life. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”

Brienne sighs. “You have to give Podrick a chance. I was with you for--”

“No,” he cuts her off and immediately cringes. “Shit. I’m really bad at this. I’m not here to ask you to come work for me again.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I--” he pauses and walks toward her, closing the distance until he’s a handsbreadth from her. “Because I love you.” 

Brienne feels that spark she’s ignored for so long, that she tried to hide deep inside, not just fan to a full flame, but explode through her. Her brain stutters at the words, unable to fully process them, so incongruous to her own truth. She can’t seem to make her mouth work. 

“Please say something,” Jaime says desperately. 

She refocuses on his face to find a deep fear in his eyes. That makes her mind slow down, the old instinct to take care of his needs rushing back. 

“I--I--” she says, voice shaking. Her hands tremble as Jaime looks steadily more worried. 

She’s not able to finish a thought. She’s not sure she even has a coherent thought. 

Jaime flinches and drops his head, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay,” he says, almost to himself. “Okay.” He tilts his head back up and smiles sadly, a smile that never reaches his eyes and makes Brienne’s stomach twist into a gordian knot. “I should get going.” 

“No!” Her voice nearly sounds like a scream in the quiet of her apartment. “I. No. Please. I just. I don’t understand.”

“You don’t understand?”

“You love me?” Brienne can’t even breathe, her hands shake and her heart pounds. 

“Yes,” Jaime says resolutely, undeniably. 

“You love me.” It’s more a statement than a question this time. 

Jaime looks faintly amused. “It’s okay,” he says again, and  _ pats _ her arm. “I had to know if I pushed you away by being too demanding or if you left because I asked--because I tried to get closer to you. Now I know, and. . .and that’s better.”

“You don’t know.” Brienne smiles, wonder rolling over her like water. “I--” she steels herself, tells herself it’s okay, she can be brave, she won’t be hurt this time. “I love you.”

“You love me?” Jaime asks, warily. 

Brienne laughs suddenly and hysterically. The entire thing is ridiculous. They’re in love, they’ve both been in love, and all they can do is question each other as if the mere notion is unbelievable to the other. She sees the hurt on Jaime’s face and sobers immediately.

“Yes, you absolute fool.” She cups his face and brushes her thumbs along the five o’clock shadow on his cheeks. “I’ve loved you for a ridiculously long time.” 

She kisses him softly, and even just that gentle brush of lips makes him groan quietly and press himself against her, his hands clutching her waist. 

When they part, he whispers, “Why did you leave?”

“Because I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

Jaime pulls further away, confusion creasing between his eyebrows. “You couldn’t stand it?”

“I couldn’t keep being your--” Brienne gestures. “I couldn’t keep being your date to things and not be your  _ date _ . I couldn’t stand to want you so much and not have you.”

“You could have had me.”

Brienne smiles ruefully. “I didn’t know that. You were my boss. And you were nice to everyone. You like it when your employees treat you like you’re practically one of them. I didn’t think--I didn’t think I was special.”

He kisses her fiercely, as if trying to convey just how wrong she was with the harsh press of his lips. “I didn’t want to overstep. I was your boss--you might have felt like you had to--”

“Yes,” she says sarcastically. “I was known for bending to your every whim.”

“This was different,” he says vehemently. 

“I know.” She pulls her lower lip into her mouth, scraping her teeth along it. “You’re not my boss now.”

Jaime smirks, a dangerous look in his eyes as he leans in again. “No, I’m not.”

He kisses her again, fully, passionately, drawing her into him until she can’t think of anything except the feel of his body against hers, the taste of his mouth, the smell of his cologne. 

She just loves him so much. 

**Author's Note:**

> Now that you're done reading. If you want to follow me on tumblr or even just send me messages over there, my tumblr name is **agirlnamedkeith**.
> 
> Thanks for all of your continued support!


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